


Did I Say The Light Was Touching Everything?

by grayglube



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Angst, Bitchy Kichie, F/M, Multi, hero twins, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9064090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayglube/pseuds/grayglube
Summary: They sit as three, silent and introspective and it’s strange how thickly death is set between them, around them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story in reverse, it's how it worked best

**X.**

It’s strange to see them together again after what feels like forever away. He raises a hand from his thigh and waves. “Hey, Brainiac.” He softens his tone, “Katie-Cakes.”

 

Kate only shakes her head, she looks sad. She’s dressed in black, like she’s at a funeral. “You’re such an idiot.”

 

Richie points a thumb at where they’ve come in from. “Come on, Lazarus. Time to get back.”

 

It isn’t that Seth isn’t excited, he is but he knows by the way the pair of somber expressions they wear like matching jackets don’t change means that there’s something they aren't saying.

 

“What about you?”

 

Richie shrugs. “I’m supposed to rescue you.”

 

“What’s that _supposed_ to mean?”

 

Kate walks away and she doesn’t look back, not at him and not at Richie. “He’s staying.”

 

Seth watches Richie turn and stare at the back of her head, his smile is small and grim.

 

He finds himself asking his brother, "Why?"

 

“It's because I have to.”

 

“Who came up with that shit idea?”

 

“It was always going to be like this.” And he’s not wrong. Seth knows that. In his bones he knows it. They’re special. They all have their parts to play. He’s supposed to break out of Hell, Richie’s supposed to rule the fucking thing, Kate's supposed to bring them back together.

 

Seth tries not to look at his brother when he leaves him behind, he isn’t sure who the better of them is, but he does know who’s the worst when he looks at Kate.

**IX.**

“This reminds me of that one time in Salina.” He grins and tries not to look at Richie’s face because it doesn't matter what might linger there, he's already made up his mind.

 

And things go off without a hitch.

 

His brother grabs Kate.

 

He grabs the amulet and a stake meant for Richie as the expected bonus. Ranger black-hat is dead and somewhere Freddie and the rest of their crew are finishing up with resurrected hellspawn.

 

Kate is crying over him, he sees it for just a few moments before he falls back into the reopened mouth of Xibalba.

 

**VIII.**

 

“What’s wrong? Seth can’t get it up anymore?”

 

She wants to say ‘no,’ but it’s not as if he’s wrong. Seth’s dying. It’s hard to watch him deny himself a chance to stick around, to steal his way into eternity like Richie was forced, like she was stolen by.

 

“What’s wrong? Jealous?”

 

“I fucked you first.”

 

“Yeah, and you’ll probably get to fuck me last too. Does that make you feel any better, about anything? At all?”

 

His face falls.

 

He fucks her like he wants her to remember it better than what Seth has done to her, it makes her hate him and when she turns to her side and sits up to slip from his bed with the sheets pulled up around her he tries to touch her with some semblance of tenderness.

 

He whispers like an endearment against the hot knob of her spine, “I really fucking hate you sometimes.”

 

**VII.**

 

Richie asks her, “What’s wrong?”

 

“He’s been coughing all night. You should call the doctor again.”

 

“He’s not going to get any better.”

 

“Don’t say that.”

 

He holds her by the arms and pulls her a step closer, “Convince him, Kate.”

 

She rocks back, unbalanced when he lets her go, unsteady in the too high heels he’s bought for her.

 

She frowns.

 

She does manage it, though. She convinces Seth with her mouth, slick and eager. Her hair trapped around his big hands and his gasping make her wet against the inside of her tights. He tastes different from his brother. More salt and less iron.

 

She swallows.

 

He agrees to let them call the doctor while he’s pulling her over him like a blanket and putting his hand down the front of her tights.

 

“Spread your legs.” He tells her. It’s only the gruffness of his tone that makes her obey, thighs opening around his hips and his other hand holding half of her ass, warm and heavy even through the nylon covering her skin.

 

There’s something darkly male, possessive, in how he stares up at her and talks to the space over her shoulder.

 

“You lost, Richard?”

 

She can’t help but try to squirm enough to look back towards the open door.

 

The frame is filled with the stiff set of Richie’s shoulder and half a glower. “Nice view.”

 

Fingers rub up her slit, spreading her slickness and she’s breathless. Seth’s chuckle makes her shiver, between her thighs something hot and awful throbs. Up against Seth she can feel the weight of the things he won’t ever say against her skin like they're bruises.

 

Richie turns, smirking nastily. Mad, maybe, at her, at himself, at Seth.  “Play nice you two.”

 

“Stay.” She mutters.

 

Seth inhales, sharp and harsh. He coughs in surprise.

 

Richie doesn’t say anything, his silence is like a hand on the back of her neck, heavy and ever-present.

 

She turns her head, her gaze steady when she tells Richie, “Stay, Seth wants you to watch,” she looks back at Seth’s flushed unguarded face, “right?”

 

His mouth only opens and pushes up to meet hers, his tongue taking her breath for his own, his answer silent but no less evident. Richie settles into Seth’s desk chair after he’s laid his jacket over the back of it, his grin vicious like he’s won something.

 

Shame runs like lightening up her spine, Richie's smooth voice giving suggestions on how best to touch her, fuck her, and Seth following them, embellishing, and her liking it, she’s wanted it like Seth’s wanted it, like Richie has, too.

 

**VI.**

 

The heist goes off the way they always have, mostly as planned with an acceptable amount of improvisation and injury.

 

They sit as three, silent and introspective and it’s strange how thickly death is set between them, around them.

 

It’s the last heist they have, they’ve already agreed on it.

 

**V.**

 

She finds out.

 

In the dark she’s there with him, in his bed and she tells him that she’s afraid. He turns on the light and she laughs a little, tells him it isn’t that kind of scared. She cries sloppy, messy tears into his neck and kisses him like a woman would.

 

When she's naked under him, eyelashes clumped together and wet, chest rising hard and fast he rubs thumbs over where all her scars should be but where they aren’t. There are secrets that she and his brother have kept from him much better than the fact that they’ve been fucking for over a year.

 

“So, are you immortal now too?”

 

She turns away, looking so fucking guilty, he’s sorry he’s asked, he’s sorry he’s made her so sad.

 

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize to me.” His tone must be too firm because she looks up again, at him. Pretty and perfect and she wants him.

 

“That’s not what this is.”

 

“Not just because I’m dying?”

 

“No.”

 

And he gets it. More than he should. She’s still supposed to be a good girl. Good girls don’t fuck one brother and then the other, they don’t want things like that. Good girls don’t kill people or get shot or die or hurt. So, he gets it.

 

She’s enthusiastic and steady and so much better than he’s ever thought she could be and he tries hard to forget who taught her how to move her hips to take him deeper, easier, or how to hold a man in her arms.

 

**IV.**

 

He’s not pushing forty yet but he’s a dead man.

 

He lights a cigarette outside the automatic doors of the after-hours clinic next to a sign that tells him it isn’t allowed to smoke within five hundred feet of the entrance.

 

He doesn't tell Kate.

  

**III.**

 

She’s alone with him, stuck waiting in the dark.

 

She’s afraid of the dark.

 

“Hey, you good?”

 

“No.”

 

Her honesty makes something inside of him hurt badly.

 

Richie gets them out of the storage container they’ve been corralled into after just a few hours. There's blood on his face and the white of his shirt and there are limbs outside on the ground behind him.

 

She’s a silently weeping mess and Seth’s found out something about himself that might easily be called a discovery of his own human limitations.

 

Richie takes her out of his arms like she’s a child.

 

Seth finds himself glaring at his brother’s back when he walks away.

 

He's made other discoveries too; jealousy, resentment.

 

**II.**

 

He coughs into his fist and swears. “I hate the fucking desert.”

 

Richie answers coolly unbothered, he doesn’t bother taking the binoculars away from his face. “Drink some water.”

 

“We could call Dakota.” Kate perks from between them, sitting on the hood.

 

Richie scoffs. “Not worth the money.”

 

“She doesn’t come for the money.” Seth tells him.

 

“It gives Freddie some peace of mind when she tells him that I’m okay.” Kate supplies easily. The binoculars in Richie’s hands come down in two small jerks, not hesitant, just unable to decide if the words he might say are worth the effort at first.

 

Seth is smirking, “She’s making sure you’re not snakefood, yet.”

 

Richie can hear the uptick in her heartbeat, awareness floods him like some metallic sound, Kate inhales and she slides off the hood, anxious suddenly, _snakefood_ , has her remembering the night before when he threw her knees up onto her bed and lapped at her until her hips had tried to unsnarl themselves from his grasp.

 

_I want to cum_.

 

He can hear her say it, repetitious in his mind, he tries not to grin too wide. She’s glancing askance at him, biting at her lip, flushing.

 

“Yeah, it’s not about the _money_ when she comes to play doctor with Seth.”

 

“That’s mature.” Seth scowls.

 

It isn’t as if it isn’t true and Richie can only shrug. At his sleeve Kate is pulling for the binoculars. Seth, surly and uninterested goes back to wait in the driver’s seat.

 

"Sleep with me tonight." He whispers at her ear like the devil would.

 

She shushes him and pretends to look at something on the horizon.

 

**I.**

 

“I think you got me sick.” Seth accuses from the couch.

 

Kate rolls her eyes and folds over the corner of a page in last month’s issue of Vogue. “That cough sounds made up.” She doesn’t even look up at him.

 

Richie lines up a row of nail polishes. “Kids do that, it’s a compulsive habit they can develop for attention.”

 

Seth watches his brother engage in something that might be considered flirting, as much as one can flirt with someone ten years their junior when he holds up a shade of red for Kate’s approval.

 

Seth shuts his eyes on the whole strange scene and curls himself deeper into his blanket, sinking further into the couch. “Fuck both of you and your little tag team act.”

 

Richie only raises his eyebrows and Kate extends her leg towards his brother so he can paint her toenails some heathen shade of red.

 

He makes retching sounds for posterity when Richie blows on her toes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Belated Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!


End file.
